Selkie's Song (Fado Trilogy) (12 page)

She shivered and her nipples tightened as his hand skated over the silk of her blouse and long fingers cupped her breast. “You are perfectly made,” he said and took possession of her mouth before she had a chance to ask on what authority he made that judgment.

No tongue on a first date
had been her admonition to herself since the time she’d French-kissed Devlin Daley after catechism class and sent him running to confession. That had been in sixth grade.

Rules were made to be broken.

Besides, this could conceivably be considered their second date, she rationalized as she delved into his sweet, smooth warmth. He tasted of wine and wheaten bread, tart and sweet in a mix so satisfying she would never need any other sustenance.

“May I?” he asked when she let him catch a breath. His fingers played with the buttons of her blouse. When she didn’t answer, he undid the top closure and the next in a tantalizing exercise in restraint. Tynan drew his index finger across her collarbone.

“Ty.” She stopped his hand before he moved any further south.

“Yes, beautiful,” he whispered into her neck and a bolt of hot voltage tingled along her nerve endings.

“Come with me.” She stood and her knees almost gave way.

Ty steadied her and she led him to her bedroom all the time fighting the knowledge that she would likely regret this tomorrow.

The mix of desire and trepidation threatened to make her head ache.

Tynan sat down on the edge of her bed and pulled her into his lap, kissed her nape, and growled deep in his throat. “Are you sure about this?” he said as his hand found her breast and cupped it gently.

Muireann slipped off his lap and pushed him backward on the bed. “Don’t go anywhere. Get comfortable. I’ll be right back.” She kissed him and headed for her bathroom. If she was going to do this, she would do it right.

Muireann’s imagination stretched Tynan out, naked, on her bed like a captive warrior.

Reality is never as much fun as fiction. When she returned to the bedroom, he was fully clothed with a giant canine on his chest and alarm in his eyes.

“Get off that man, ya mangy cur,” Muireann shouted and reached for the first object at her fingertips, the prayer missal she received from her mam on her first communion. She took aim and threw it at Cú, missed the hound, but smacked Tynan in the forehead.

Then all eyes turned to the man in the doorway.

“Hey, selkie, how ya…Ty? Whatta ya doin’ in Muireann’s…bed. Oh, sorry,” Simon stuttered. “Right…good on ya.”

“Simon O’Flaherty, ya flamin’ eegit. Both arms busted? Can’t ya knock?” She looked from Simon to Ty and snatched a fringed scarf off the chair to cover herself.

“Knock? Muireann O’Malley, in thirty years have ya ever known me to knock?”

“Well, then.” Her fury was barely contained. “Why aren’t ya down at the pub playin’ those whinin’ pipes of yers?”

“I
was
there…and now I’m here.” He grabbed Muireann by the hand. “Excuse us for a minute, would ya, Ty?” And he almost dragged her out of the bedroom and into the kitchen, shutting the door behind them and leaving Cú to mind Tynan.

“Simon, what the fuck are ya doing?”

“Listen to me,” he whispered. “He’s the one.” Simon pointed toward the bedroom.

Muireann shook her head. How could Simon be her friend and be so stupid? “The one what?”

“He’s the one who owns Bertie’s place.”

Chapter Ten

“Tynan? No way. Are ya out of yer mind?” she assured him. “He came here to find
me.”

“He came here to sell it.” Simon retreated a half step in defense.

“Where did you hear this ridiculous nonsense?”

“Mick overheard Caitie chattin’ up that shitehawk Feeney.”

“And Mick told you this?” she said, incredulity raising the pitch of her voice.

“Naw, Mick-o doesn’t gossip. He told Niabh. She probably threatened to quit warmin’ his bed if he didn’t tell her what went on at the pub.”

“You talked to Niabh?”

“Muireann O’Malley, yer just not listenin’ to me here.” Simon rolled his eyes in frustration. “You know Niabh doesn’t talk to any O’Flaherty since my uncle refused to marry her sister.”

“That was thirty years ago.” Her aggravation level was rising into the red zone. If Simon didn’t get to the point soon, she was boiling over.

“Well, Irish women never forget.”

“Simon, I swear if you don’t get to the point of all this in the next five seconds, I’m gonna—”

“Niabh told yer da when she delivered the bread to the pub. And yer da told meself.” He stood proudly with his hands on his hips. “I thought you should be aware of who yer thinkin’ of shaggin’ here, that’s all.”

“
Shaggin’
?” She looked in his eyes for signs of insanity. “Do you think I need you to tell me who I should and shouldn’t have in my bed?”

Simon looked at his feet as though he expected them to speak words of wisdom. “My sources,” he began. “My sources say the sale is a done deal.”

“Sources? Simon, yer a flamin’ bog warrior. You wouldn’t know a
source
if it bit you in the bollocks.” Muireann instantly regretted being so mean. “Sorry, go on.”

“According to my source, Sloane just wants to get rid of the land. He’s happy to sell it just to cover the back taxes. He’s flush, I guess. Doesn’t need the cash. Feeney claims to have Sloane’s permission to go ahead with the sale.”

“Who’s he sellin’ it to?” The back taxes? Could she scrape that amount together? “How much does he really need for it?”

“What do I get if I tell you?” He pulled a crumpled sheet of newspaper out of his pocket.

“You get to keep your testicles,” she said and snatched the paper. “What’s this?”

“It’s from the
Currach
.” He pointed to the bottom line. “The land sale had to be posted to the public. It’s the law, I guess.”

“Where did you get this?” She searched the paper for details. “Who gave you this?”

“Cait found it when she was sweeping up last night. Feeney must have dropped it.” Simon pointed to the expected sale price. “Not a little bit of cash.”

Muireann felt like a balloon that had burst and gone limp. “This is impossible. How can there be a lien on that land? Bertie’s family had owned it for centuries.”

“Don’t know, but Ian Feeney is the only person in West Clare who can afford that price and he knows it.” Simon backed up a step.

She grabbed at him. “Stop backing up. I’m not going to hit you, dammit.” Muireann said and waved the paper in his face. “What are you saying? Ian?” But given a moment’s consideration, it didn’t seem so impossible. “Yeah, Ian would do this. If for no other reason just to make a point with me.”

“You could offer Sloane something better than money.”

Muireann gritted her teeth until she thought they might crack. “I’m not a whore…not even for a good cause.”

Simon waited. He knew better than to speak when Muireann was pacing.

“Why are all my friends and family completely mental? Answer me that.” She put her hand up to stop him. “No, don’t go there.”

Her kitchen was small. Pacing was near to impossible. “I have to think.” She stopped and ran her hands through her hair. Muireann struggled to believe she could have the best of all worlds. She could keep the land in one virtual box and her relationship with Tynan in another. It would take more than her usual level of tact, which was about as subtle as a hammer blow.

“Sorry, selkie, he didn’t come here to find you. He came here for business.” Simon backed up a step out of swatting reach. “So work out a nice, simple business deal instead.”

“Brilliant,” Muireann groaned. “Did you just happen to pull a roll of thousand-euro bills out of your arse? We have no money, remember? That’s why we didn’t pay the taxes and buy the land in the first place.”

“Oh, yeah. I got carried away.”

“Yeah, in case you forget again…I chained myself to a tree
because
we have no money.”

Simon chewed his lower lip and peered at her under knitted brows. “You could sell something. Trade something.”

Muireann threw her head back and looked heavenward in an attempt to keep from screaming. “Sure I’ll just tell Ty Sloane I’ll throw him a pot or two in exchange for the cost of paying off the lien and the back taxes on Bertie’s place.”

“You’ve got something of value not ten feet away…” He pointed toward the parlor.

“Don’t go there,” she cut him off. “Ronan’s harp is not for sale.” She closed her eyes and wished Simon would disappear along with his stupid ideas. Her head came up and she tossed her tangled locks over her shoulder. “I’ll have to be creative, that’s all.”

“Uh, can I ask?”

“No, gobshite. You cannot ask. You and your ridiculous notion that I needed a man in my bed got me to this point. I’m going to make the best of it.”

Simon’s face split into a huge grin. “You want him. You think this is gonna be good.”

“Have you no life? Must you live mine for me?” Her fingers itched to wrap themselves around Simon’s skinny neck and squeeze slow and hard until his eyeballs popped out and rolled across the floor. “If he came here under false pretenses, I want nothing to do with him. I’m going out there and sending him packing.”

Simon tilted his head and looked at her. It usually meant he had one of his silly inspirations of his perceived genius. He was about to make her life even more complicated.

“Stop giving me that look.”

“This is your golden opportunity to have a little fun,” he said with an almost diabolical grin.

Muireann mentally rolled her eyes. She knew what was coming. Simon was more persistent than a Lisdoonvarna matchmaker in October. “I’m having all the fun I can stand.”

“How about if I dare you?” he taunted.

She felt the blood rise in her head. “You wouldn’t.”

“Why not?”

“Come on, Simon, I thought you were my friend.” He was and she knew she was trapped. “Don’t dare me. That’s not fair.” The whining edge in her voice grated on her ears and she hated herself for letting him push her there.

He wasn’t going to drop it. “I
dare
you to go ahead and seduce your Tynan.”

“Stop calling him
my
Tynan.”

“How long did you pine for this fella? Then he comes here and lies about looking for you.”

“No, Simon…no, no…not doing it…not on your terms. You can’t make me.”
Yes, he can.
Muireann started to cave. “He’ll be gone in a week.”

“That’s not much time for a decent seduction.” Simon threw his head back and laughed. “But then who said anything about decent?”

“You’re ridiculous. Tynan’s like any man. All I have to do is show up…naked.”
Talk yourself out of this before it’s too late .
”No, this is just wrong.” A hot blood rush throbbed in her ears. “You’re intolerable…do you know that?”

“Muireann…” Simon leaned over the table toward her. “You give yourself to every good cause in the interest of Ireland, your parents, this village, but you do nothing for yourself. This guy is gonna rip your dreams right out from under you unless you do something to stop him. You need to make him want to throw pearls at your feet. I
dare
you convince him any way you can.” He turned and walked to the door. “The loser buys the pints.”

“Then you better get a real job, because this is gonna cost you.” Let him think whatever he wanted. There was no way in hell she would finagle, trick, or wheedle favors out of Tynan, or any other man in her bed. “You just leave Tynan to me. I’ll make sure he never tells me any lies again.”

“Ah now, don’t hurt the man. Ya know that’s never worked in the past.”

“The past? What past? I’ve never laid a hand on anyone.”

Simon rubbed his jaw and hesitated. “Uh, are ye forgettin’ poor Liam Dooley?”

“Liam? He deserved what he got. And his eyebrows grew back after a time,” she declared in self-defense.

“But he still has to live with the humiliation of that tattoo of the Union Jack.”

“Jaysus, it’s on his arse.” She shook her head at his apparent cluelessness. “Who’s ever gonna see it?”

“Though honey is sweet, don’t lick it off a briar,” he said.

Muireann’s hands ached to hit him. “And what’s that supposed to mean?”

Simon’s mouth screwed up as he thought. “I’m not sure really. Just seemed time for an aphorism.”

Muireann swallowed the irritation that choked in her throat. “Really, now?” Muireann stepped toward the door and opened it. “How about this one then?
Don’t let the gate hit you in the bum on the way out.
”

He did not argue.

She hoped the tightness in her chest was a sign of anger and not disappointment. Ty’d said he came to find her, revive old times. Yeah, she must have been crazy to believe that old saw. He’d come for his own personal gain.

Typical.
Not of Tynan in particular, but the men in her life in general.

Well, this man wouldn’t go away without something to remember her by.

Any suggestion of whoring herself was out of the question. However, she and Tynan were consenting adults. If the time was right, and it certainly seemed to be, she wouldn’t deny herself.

No promises. No commitments. He would be gone in a week. This is just for fun. A little recreation. Payback for years spent wondering about him. Besides it was a dare. She’d never lost a pint to Simon and never would.

Muireann found lip gloss in her kitchen junk drawer and spread it liberally on her mouth. She loosened the knot on the scarf around her body and nudged it down a few millimeters to reveal the dip between her breasts. She ran a dishcloth over the stainless steel teakettle and checked her reflection.

Not bad.

Somewhere on the internet she had read the scent of baked goods had an aphrodisiac effect on a man. Too late to start baking. A dab of vanilla extract behind each ear and a drop on her belly would have to suffice.

She grabbed the Baileys from the cupboard and a tumbler from the dish drainer.

She was ready.

She was determined.

Muireann shook out her hair, set a sexy smile on her lips and pushed through her kitchen door.

Ty Sloane, brace yourself for the ride of your life.